


The Art of Deception

by PJ1228



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-31
Updated: 2006-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJ1228/pseuds/PJ1228
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A homicide at the AGO takes an unexpected personal turn for Nick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Forever Knight and its characters were created by Barney Cohen and James D. Parriott and are copyright to Sony/Tristar. None of the characters in this story belongs to me. I'm just borrowing them temporarily. No infringement intended. No profit is being made.
> 
> Special thanks to Doris for beta reading and suggestions.
> 
> Timeline: 3rd season

**The Art of Deception**  
by PJ  
January 2006

"81 KILO, 81 KILO, please respond," the police radio in the Caddy crackled to life.

Tracy reached for the mike and pressed the button. "81 KILO responding. What's the matter?"

"A homicide at the AGO. The Captain wants you there ASAP."

* * *

When Nick and Tracy arrived at the art gallery, Natalie had just finished her examination and approached them. "The victim is a guard who was probably assaulted by an intruder. Cause of death is strangulation. The killer was wearing gloves."

Nick took a survey of the room they were in. The walls were covered with paintings from the 15th to 17th century. He walked over to the curator. "Did you check if any of the paintings are missing?"

The curator looked slightly distressed. "We found out that one painting is missing. We are currently having a special exhibition of Flemish landscape paintings in this room."

"I've read about that," Nick said. Actually he had planned on visiting the exhibit with Natalie one evening but until now their conflicting schedules hadn't allowed that.

"They're loans from different museums and private collectors," the curator continued. "The painting that was stolen was one of our masterpieces." He led Nick over to an empty spot on the wall.

Nick glanced at the plaque that stated the title of the painting and swallowed.

<<<<<<< Brabant 1536

"Nicolas, come back to bed," Janette purred.

"Not yet, chérie. The light is just perfect. I need to take advantage of it," Nicholas called back. He was sitting in the shadows of the veranda, bundled up in a cloak. In front of him stood an easel with a canvas that was half filled with the flowing hills of the landscape stretching beyond the horizon.

"Nicolas, I'm sick of attending to your scorched face every evening. I don't understand why you are so obsessed with that painting anyway."

Although he stood in the shadows he couldn't keep the exposed parts of his skin from dangerously reddening. "Janette, please. You've seen the carnage that King Henry wreaked on the English countryside. What if something like that happens here, too? I want to have a picture that reminds me of what this land once looked like."

"Chérie you have perfect recall. You don't need a painting to remind you of this landscape," she pointed out, annoyed at his obsession with this painting.

"But don't you understand, Janette? I want something to look upon."

"And it has to be in daylight?"

"Yes, it has," he insisted.

She sighed. "Lacroix will not allow you to continue with this folly when he returns from Paris."

"That's why I have to finish it before he returns."

>>>>>>>

Tracy had followed her partner to the wall and found him staring oddly at the plaque that stated the name and origin of the painting that was supposed to hang beside it.

"Paysage à Brabant, oil on canvas, 1536. Artist: Nicolas. Current owner: The de Brabant Foundation".

"Do you have a photo of it in your catalogue," she asked the curator, rousing Nick from his thoughts.

"Yes, I'll get it from my office for you," he said and headed off, accompanied by Tracy.

Natalie strolled over to where Nick was standing, curious to know what kept his attention. She read the plaque and gasped. "Nick? Is this just a coincidence?" she whispered, pointing at the plaque.

"No, it's not. I'm the painter," Nick whispered back.

"I didn't know you were that famous to make it into art exhibitions," Nat commented.

"Believe me, I had no idea either," Nick stated. Then he saw Tracy returning, carrying a catalogue and a rolled-up poster. "We'll talk later," he said to Nat and turned towards his partner. "May I?" he asked and reached for the poster, slowly straightening it. He gazed at the familiar landscape, losing himself in the memories of his childhood, when he had run along those very hills trying to catch the sunset.

"Nick?" Tracy asked for the third time.

"Huh?" he snapped back to the present.

"I said, I think we should return to the precinct," Tracy repeated slightly annoyed.

"Sure," he said, but didn't move. Instead he handed her the poster back and took the catalogue, opening it on a marked page. He scanned the information given about the painting and its painter and was relieved to find only vague assumptions on its origin.

* * *

"Do we have any information about that painter?" Tracy asked after they had returned to their desks.

"I don't think he was very famous," Nick stated in an attempt to keep her from trying to find out more than was necessary.

"Perhaps there's information on the internet."

"It's not very helpful that he signed with his first name only."

"Well, if I recall it correctly Vincent van Gogh did that, too."

"But Nicolas is a much more common name," Nick pointed out. "You won't find anything by simply typing his first name into the search engine."

Tracy shot him a frustrated glance. "Yeah, I suppose you are right. It seems to be a common name, Nick," she said, stressing his name.

"What about this organization that is listed as the owner?"

"I already checked that. It's a charitable organization with different offices around the world. Nobody knows who the current chairman is."

"It can't be that hard to find out."

"Tracy we are talking of very large sums here. It's possible that he wants to remain incognito."

"Sounds suspicious, if you ask me."

"Yet we should handle this with the proper discretion," Nick insisted.

Tracy glanced at him probingly. "You don't appear to be very eager to solve this one, Nick," she observed. "I thought you were interested in the art scene yourself."

"I am, and I assure you, I want to find this painting as much as anyone else."

* * *

Nick stood in his kitchen, pouring a glass of blood when the lift motor engaged. He quickly drained two glasses in succession, preparing himself for Natalie's visit.

"What?" she asked after she had stepped in from the lift and saw him grinning at her.

"I knew you would come by after your shift," he replied.

"Am I getting that predictable?" she asked, returning the smile.

"No, but I know how to lure you here," he said with a hint of seduction in his voice.

She was speechless for a moment, then she swallowed. "And that would be?"

"By rousing your curiosity," he replied.

"Okay, I admit, it worked. I couldn't go home without hearing more about that painting."

"Coffee?" he asked while he helped her out of her coat.

"Yes, please," she said and took a seat on the couch.

A short time later Nick joined her, passing her a steaming mug and setting his own glass in front of him. Then he proceeded to tell her about the origin of the painting.

Nat listened in fascination. "If it took you so much effort to paint it, I don't understand why you parted with it," she observed when he had finished.

Nick took a sip from his glass, before giving her a meaningful look. "I didn't. The painting is safely tucked away in my storage room. The one that was stolen must have been a fake."

* * *

After Natalie had left, Nick picked up the phone and dialled a number. "Frederic? It's Nicholas. Do you know anything about a painting that was loaned to the AGO in Toronto?"

"I'm sorry, Nicholas, no. Wait, I recall that we got a letter from the gallery, asking if we were interested in loaning them one of our pictures. Hold on, I need to access the file."

Nick heard the clicking noise of fingers on a keyboard across the line.

"Yes, that landscape painting we had in the foyer. Is something wrong with it?"

"Well, it has been stolen. Do you know anything about its origin? How it came into the possession of the foundation?"

"Just a second," Frederic requested again. "It was acquired at an auction in Paris in 1963 from the legacy of an old widow."

Nick took in the information. "Thank you, Frederic. In case someone else makes inquiries, you know what to do."

"Of course, Nicholas."

After ending the call, Nick took the elevator to the first floor that he kept as a storage area. He let out a sigh of relief when after an hour of browsing through various large wooden crates he found what he had been looking for. He sat a while in front of the canvas, lost in thought.

<<<<<<< Brabant 1536

"Nicolas, you are giving that painting more attention than me", an enraged Janette complained as Nicholas carried his canvas into the living room.

"It's finished, Janette", he stated. "Now I'm all yours again."

Instead of answering she threw a glass at him. He ducked instinctively behind the painting. The glass smashed on its back, small shards embedding themselves in the wood.

"My, my, what has you so enraged, ma belle?" Lacroix inquired after watching the scene in the drawing room.

"Ask Nicolas! He has neglected me because of that foolish painting."

Lacroix took in the sight of his son, face and hands scorched, clutching a canvas to his chest. "So, what foolishness have you been up to?"

"I have been painting", his child stated.

"May I take a look?"

Nicholas turned the canvas around and missed the astonished gasp from his father.

Lacroix knew when he saw a masterpiece. Nicholas had captured the landscape in the perfect colours of a summer evening. He must have painted outside in the daylight. That explained the condition his son was currently in. However much he liked the painting, it was more important that Nicholas understood that it was too dangerous for him to go outside when the sun was up. "I expected more reason from you than such foolish undertakings", he stated coldly. "Now clean yourself up and join us in a more presentable condition."

Nicholas rushed into his room, trying in vain to suppress his disappointment about his father's lack of approval.

>>>>>>>

Nick turned the picture around and freed it from its frame. There on the back he spotted several tiny shards of glass. This was his original, no doubt. For reasons he didn't want to dwell on, he had kept it hidden from anyone's view for over 450 years. Whoever had reproduced his painting, obviously must have done so shortly after he had finished it.

There was only one person who would be able to shed a little light on this mystery and he was reluctant to seek him out, especially on this matter.

<<<<<<< Paris 1540

When they had moved into Lacroix's new mansion in Paris, Nicholas had been immensely proud when his master had suggested decorating the wall above the mantel with his painting.

The rare domestic idyll between them was brought to an abrupt ending when Lacroix took in a young mortal, named Arthur. He had come to learn different painting techniques from Nicholas, who soon tired of his company for lack of other common interests. When Nicholas mentioned his complaint, Lacroix decided that Arthur should receive a thorough education that would enable him to join a conversation with his spoiled child. Arthur had seized the opportunity and become an eager student. He absorbed everything Lacroix taught him and ended up spending more and more time with him.

"What's wrong, chéri?" Janette asked as she found Nicholas brooding in his bedroom.

"Do you know if Lacroix has any plans with Arthur?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"He spends a lot of time with him. Do you think he will bring him across?" he voiced his worst fear.

"What if he does? Does it bother you?"

Nick remained silent, evading her eyes.

"Don't tell me you are jealous," Janette remarked. "I thought you'd be glad that he has someone else to focus on."

Nicholas tried to suppress the slight panic that rose unbidden in him.

"Lacroix loves to teach and he has found a willing student in Arthur," she said.

"I think I will leave for a while. I want to go back to Brabant," Nicholas broached the subject that had been on his mind ever since he had started to feel superfluous in this house. If Lacroix really brought Arthur across, he would require even more attention than he already received. But if Nicholas left, he was certain Lacroix would follow him without delay. He always did.

* * *

After stowing his belongings in a large trunk, Nicholas went into the parlour and took the painting from the wall.

"The painting remains here," a decisive voice said, allowing no objection.

"The painting is mine. I'll take it with me," Nicholas replied nevertheless.

"If you wish to keep it, stay here."

"No, you don't want me here. You have Arthur to look after now."

"You are talking nonsense, Nicholas. I---"

"Lucien?" Arthur's voice interrupted them. "Oh excuse me, I didn't mean to intrude. I have a problem with a translation. Could you take a look?"

Nick cast him a murderous glare.

"I'm warning you, Nicholas. I will pursue you to the end of the world," Lacroix said before following Arthur out of the parlour.

Nicholas stared gloomily at the closed door. Then he reconsidered Lacroix's words and a smile appeared on his face. He grabbed the canvas and stored it into his trunk before leaving without any further good-bye.

But he waited in vain for his master to follow him. The realization that Lacroix neither missed him nor the painting hurt more than he cared to admit. And when he finally did come, the painting was never mentioned between them again.

>>>>>>>

 

* * *

Nick entered the Raven and found his master at the bar.

"Nicholas, how nice of you to drop by," Lacroix greeted his son.

"Do you remember that painting I did back in Brabant after we returned from England?" Nick asked, coming immediately to the point of his visit.

Lacroix regarded his son with carefully schooled features. "You mean the one that nearly caused your premature demise either by combustion in sunlight or Janette's rage? What about it?"

"It has been stolen from the museum."

Lacroix raised his eyebrows. "And what kind of vanity caused you to present it in a museum?"

"I didn't give it to the museum. It has been forged. And that not recently but at least 400 years ago. The foundation acquired it in the sixties and loaned it to the AGO for their special exhibition."

Lacroix regarded him probingly through narrowed eyes. "And what happened to the original? What makes you so sure that this one is a fake?"

There was a brief hesitation before he answered. "Because I never parted with it."

Lacroix cast him a look of disbelief.

<<<<<<< Paris 1540

Lacroix stood in his parlour, staring at the painting above his mantel. His son had been gone over a week and it had taken a huge effort on his part not to follow him immediately. It would have hinted at a weakness, something Lacroix did not associate with himself. Had Nicholas taken the painting with him, he would have had a plausible reason to take up pursuit instantly. He almost wished he had taken it. He missed him. So he came repeatedly into his parlour to take solace in its mere presence.

>>>>>>>

"Certainly you remember that young apprentice you were so very fond of; who used to hang around with us in the hope to learn something about art?" Nick broke into Lacroix's memories.

"Contrary to what you suspected, I found him quite annoying," Lacroix commented. "Though he had considerable talent, he lacked the necessary imagination to develop his own style and preferred to copy the works of others."

"We had this quarrel about keeping him in our house or not," Nick recalled. "Since you spent your entire time with him, I thought it better to leave. I didn't want to be in the way in case you brought him across."

"How considerate of you and so very altruistic."

Ignoring Lacroix's sarcastic remark, Nick continued, "I wanted to take my painting with me but you insisted that I leave it there."

"Which you were wise to do."

Nick looked at him, confused. "But I didn't. I took it with me."

Lacroix blinked in surprise.

"Young Arthur must have been more talented than we believed. Apparently he replaced it with a reproduction of his own and you didn't even notice."

Lacroix scowled. Not only had he been deceived by a mortal, the incident had caused him to spend enourmous efforts on searching for a fake when the original had been in his son's possession all along! "He turned out to be a major disappointment and he soon left afterwards," Lacroix continued thoughtfully. "A couple of nights later I discovered that someone had broken into my house and stolen the painting. I suspected Arthur and hunted him down. I killed him but the painting remained gone. He must have sold it." Pride had prevented him from mentioning his failure in retrieving the painting before and he had been glad when Nicholas had never touched on the subject again until today.

Nick regarded his master curiously. "And I wondered why you never mentioned it again," he stated.

"Funny. And so did I," Lacroix remarked.

* * *

On the following shift, Nick and Tracy returned to the gallery in order to talk to the curator again.

"Did you have a specialist examine the painting?" Nick asked the curator.

"Of course, our insurance company requires that."

"And? Is it possible that it's a fake?"

"There's no doubt that it's from the 16th century."

Tracy regarded Nick oddly.

"And you trust his judgement?" Nick asked.

"He has excellent references. Before he came to Canada he worked for the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam and the Louvre in Paris," the curator said.

Tracy noticed that Nick tensed slightly at the mentioning of the Louvre.

"I'd like to talk to him," Nick said.

"You'll probably find him at the University of Toronto at this time. He's giving evening lectures about restoration techniques," the curator provided.

* * *

"Nick, why do you insist that the stolen painting might be a fake?" Tracy asked as they drove towards the UoT Campus.

"Just a feeling," Nick mumbled and turned on the stereo.

"The art of deception is a craft that never pays off," the Nightcrawler's lecturing voice came over the air-waves. "For if you insist on keeping your true feelings hidden, how can you expect to receive anything in return? Don't let your foolish pride be a hindrance to end a centuries-old estrangement, whose source has been based on the deceptive hand of a third party."

"Who would want to end an estrangement with that creepy guy?" Tracy asked with a shiver and turned the stereo off.

"Beats me," Nick replied, a smile playing around his lips.

* * *

The lecture had just ended when Nick and Tracy arrived at Sidney Smith Hall that housed the university's art department.

"Mr. VanBoysen? I'm Detective Knight and this is Detective Vetter. We like to talk to you for a moment," Nick stated.

The dark haired man stared a long time at Nick before he shook their hands. "I guess it's about the stolen painting?" VanBoysen asked.

"Yes. Is it possible that it has been faked?" Nick asked.

The man blinked in surprise. "What makes you think that? I did the expertise myself. The methods applied are quite accurate. It's definitely from the first half of the 16th century."

"But what, if it has been faked in the 16th century?" Nick suggested.

"I doubt that. I've seen other works from the same artist. One is owned by the Louvre for example. It's the same technique."

"Really?" Tracy piped in. "We had difficulties to find anything about him at all."

"He wasn't very famous," VanBoysen explained. "If you'll excuse me now, I've another lecture coming up in five minutes."

* * *

After they had returned to the precinct, Nick excused himself and headed over to the morgue.

Tracy used the remaining time of her shift to do some research. She logged onto the Louvre's internet side and studied the works of art that were currently on exhibition. Her eyes lit up as she found a portrait of a young woman. The artist was indeed named Nicolas. But as she studied the description, her enthusiasm fell. The painting was dated 1413. It must have been another artist by the same name, a grandfather perhaps, she concluded. And yet, as she compared the signature with the one on the poster, she furrowed her brows. That was impossible, wasn't it? It meant there was a time difference of more than 100 years between the two paintings. She quickly sent an inquiry to the museum to have the date confirmed. If this was no mistake, it left only one explanation: the painter had had a very long life!

Tracy grabbed her belongings, signed out and drove to the church.

* * *

"What brings you here, Nick?" Nat asked as Nick entered the morgue.

"We talked to the art expert today. He says he knows another painting by the same artist that is hanging in the Louvre."

"You have a painting hanging in the Louvre?" Nat asked impressed.

"It was a personal gift to the king's niece. How could I know that the king's former residence would become a museum one day?" Nick defended himself, unaware of Natalie's curious glance. He rarely talked about episodes from his former life. "They simply incorporated the paintings from the private quarters into their collection."

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"The problem is I painted that one about 120 years earlier."

"And the expert is familiar with the time difference?"

"It can't have escaped him. And yet, he didn't go for my theory about the fake."

"You don't think he suspects anything?" Nat asked, astonished.

"I'm not sure. He stared at me oddly."

"Nick, people do give you a second look sometimes, men as well as women, I believe."

Nick looked down, slightly embarrassed. "I told him about the fake theory, but he insists that it's an original."

"So, what do you think?"

"He might have stolen the painting to prove the time difference. What if he knows about us? Perhaps he's a hunter. If this gets out to the public, our kind is in danger of being exposed. And I'll be held responsible."

Natalie reached out to touch his arm in comfort. "Promise me to be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, I will," Nick replied and kissed her brow.

* * *

"Tracy, it's almost dawn. What are you doing here?" Vachon asked as Tracy entered the church.

"I need to talk to you. Would one of you guys - someone who does art - use the same signature over the centuries?"

"We guys? Don't tell me you are seeing vampires again, Trace," Vachon groaned.

"Just answer my question."

"Well, honestly, it would be a stupid thing to do. But I think the old ones might have. You know until the 17th century or so, there weren't any catalogues or stuff like that. Nobody noticed if an artist had two paintings with a time difference of more than two centuries. Why do you ask?"

"Well, there's a painting in the Louvre done by someone named Nicolas in 1413. Two days ago another painting, obviously done by the same guy, was stolen from the AGO. Only this one was dated 1536." Tracy pulled out the poster roll and showed him the print.

Vachon tensed imperceptibly as he read the title. "What does your partner think?" he inquired carefully.

"Nick thinks that this one is a fake. I don't know where he got that theory."

"He's probably right. There's nothing mysterious about it," Vachon stated lightly.

"You think so?" Tracy asked.

Vachon shrugged.

"Well, I guess, I should talk to Nick then," she announced and got up to leave.

* * *

The buzzer roused Nick from a deep sleep. Only half awake he answered the door.

"It's me, Tracy," his partner announced.

"Come on up," he said and pressed the button to open the door.

Tracy stepped out of the elevator. She had been to the loft only rarely and found it quite impressive.

"Tracy, it's still daytime. Our shift starts in three hours," Nick stated with unconcealed accusation in his voice.

"I know. I wanted to talk to you before shift. I guess you're right about the fake theory."

"Let me take a shower first to wake up. There's coffee under the sink. Help yourself."

Tracy smiled at his tousled hair. She hadn't seen her partner otherwise than impeccably dressed. Only now she realized that she must have woken him.

After she had prepared two mugs of coffee, she went to explore the loft, admiring the different works of art he had there. On a previous visit he had mentioned an heirloom, when she had wondered about the value. While some were signed with the initials N.d.B., she suddenly stopped short as she spotted one  
under the stairs that was signed "Nicolas". Her partner owned a painting from the same guy they were so desperately trying to find information about? She continued to stare at the signature. It was similar as in the other paintings, but the style was cubism. How could a painter from the 16th century know anything about cubism? Her suspicion about the nature of this artist returned full force.

She tried to sound as casual as possible when she called upstairs, "Nick, who did this painting you have under the stairs?"

Nick answered without thinking, still groggy despite his shower. "I did, why?" He realized his mistake when Tracy remained silent. Carefully he stepped onto the gallery and saw her staring at his painting, one that he had done 90 years ago. He could actually see how her mind put the pieces together. "Tracy, I---"

She whirled around and stared at him. "You're a vampire!" she gasped. "I can't believe it!"

Nick jumped over the railing and landed smoothly in front of her. Tracy involuntarily took a step back.

"Please, don't be afraid," Nick said and raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

"I'm not afraid. I'm damn angry!" Tracy shouted. "We are partners, Nick. We are supposed to trust each other."

"Sit down, please," Nick said and nodded towards his couch.

Tracy plopped down and watched as Nick went to his refrigerator and pulled out a green bottle. After he had retrieved a glass from the board, he joined her and sat down in the armchair next to the couch. Tracy stared stunned as he poured himself a glass of the dark liquid and took a deliberate sip.

"Does it bother you?" Nick asked.

Tracy shook her head. "No, I've just never seen Vachon drink it from a glass."

Nick gave her a lopsided smile. "It's a question of table manners, I guess," he said.

"You knew I know of Vachon," Tracy commented subdued. "Why the big secret?"

"Mortals are not supposed to know of our existence at all. Those who find out are usually killed as well as those who exposed themselves," Nick explained.

"But by whom?" Tracy asked.

"We have a kind of police that enforces the law of secrecy. I already had two run-ins with them and I can tell you they're far from your friendly neighbourhood cop."

"Vachon never mentioned them," Tracy remarked. "That means he's in danger because of me and now you're as well?"

"You are not the first mortal who knows the truth about me. So don't worry about me."

"Uhu," Tracy said and emptied her mug. "Nick, that painting in the Louvre VanBoysen mentioned, is from 1413. You did that as well?"

Nick nodded.

"How old are you?" Tracy asked amazed.

Nick hesitated. He had always been reluctant to give any personal data away. On the other hand, due to her research, Tracy already knew that he wasn't exactly young anymore. "I was brought across in 1228," he finally stated.

Tracy stared at him, calculating his age. "Wow! I guess, I need another coffee. You won't drink yours, I suppose?"

"No, by no means," Nick laughed.

Tracy took a gracious swallow, before leaning back. "Are you now ready to give me an honest update on our case?" she asked.

"I didn't mean to deceive you, Tracy. And I don't know much more than you do," Nick replied. "But I suspect VanBoysen to be the man we are looking for."

"Any particular reason?"

"He must be aware of the time difference. I suspect that he stole the painting to get evidence for something people generally don't believe in."

"But you can't prove it."

"I can when I find the painting in his possession. I already applied for a search warrant."

"A warrant?" Tracy asked amazed. "How did you get that? You've practically no evidence."

"I sort of convinced the necessary people."

"Convinced, as in whammying? Nick, you can't do that. Dad would go ballistic if he knew."

"Dad is not supposed to know anything about this conversation we had today, Tracy," Nick clarified in a severe tone that caused Tracy to cringe.

"Of course not. But---"

"Tracy, just trust me on this one, please," Nick begged in a softer tone. "I promise that I usually use that method as a last resort. But this has to be taken care of as soon as possible because it endangers the secrecy of our kind."

"Okay, let's go then," Tracy said and emptied her second mug.

Nick grabbed his coat and holster and followed her into the lift. "Tracy, knowing what I am, does it change anything between us?" he wanted to know.

Tracy considered her answer for a while. She doubted that she could give a true judgement before having at least another day to cope with her newly gained knowledge. On the other hand she had known Nick for quite some time now. Although he had kept her in the dark about his nature, she had developed a trust in him that was hard to be shattered, even by a revelation like this. "I don't think it does, Nick," she replied sincerely.

Nick smiled at her in relief. "Thanks, Tracy."

* * *

After retrieving the warrant at the precinct, they headed to Mr. VanBoysen's private address. Tracy rang the bell, but there was no answer.

"He's inside," Nick stated after straining his enhanced senses. He reached for the doorknob and turned it until the lock gave in.

"Corrosion, I know," Tracy remarked dryly and moved past him into the house.

"Upstairs," Nick whispered and led the way. They reached a hallway from which several rooms originated. There was a strong scent of alcohol in the air.

"Look, over there," Tracy whispered and pointed into one of the rooms.

Nick followed her gaze. There, propped up on an easel, he discovered the painting. Tracy walked into the room. "Tracy wait!" he called as he perceived the nearby heartbeat.

The clicking sound of a trigger being released, heightened his alarm. He rushed forward and flung himself on Tracy, pushing her to the ground. At the same moment a wooden bolt embedded itself in his thigh. He hissed at the pain and squeezed his eyes shut to hide their sudden change.

"Nick!" Tracy exclaimed, unsure what startled her more. The sudden change of her partner's features into a vampire's face or the wooden bolt, protruding from his leg. Before she had time to find an answer, her attention was quickly drawn towards the door, where VanBoysen blocked her path and aimed a crossbow at them.

"I knew you'd come back," he said. "All my life I've searched for evidence of your existence. And now I've finally found it," he stated and nodded towards the canvas. "I will take this with me to Paris and then I'll let all the world know of your kind."

"If you know what you are dealing with, then you should know that I'm not going to let you leave," Nick stated in a deep voice that caused the hair to stand back on Tracy's neck.

"I know what I'm dealing with and I know how to fight it," VanBoysen replied and released another shot in Nick's direction.

Tracy gasped in surprise as Nick caught the bolt in midair and flung it to the side. Then he reached for the one that was embedded in his thigh and pulled it out as well. "Are you sure about that?" he asked menacingly and advanced towards VanBoysen.

The Dutchman reached into his pocket and pulled out a firelighter. "One step further and I'll set this place aflame," he announced. "Oh, I should mention that I prepared the floor in expectation of your arrival."

Nick stopped in his motions and carefully sniffed the air. The underlying scent of alcohol he had perceived all the time suddenly became a threat of a different dimension. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tracy move. "Tracy, don't!" he shouted, but it was too late.

Finding VanBoysen's attention totally focused on Nick, Tracy had pulled out her gun and aimed it at VanBoysen's legs. The Dutchman crashed to the floor, dropping the firelighter. Instantly the entire surface of the floor went up in flames, causing VanBoysen to scream in terror as his clothes caught fire.

"Oh my God!" Tracy exclaimed in horror.

Nick rushed towards her and grabbed her, before crashing with her through the window. By the time they landed safely on the lawn in front of the house, the entire upper storey was ablaze. Nick tried to enter the house again, but he realized that he'd be too late to be of any help to VanBoysen.

"Are you all right?" he asked, turning towards Tracy who stared appalled at the burning building.

She pulled out of her shock. "I guess so. Thanks to you, Nick."

The sirens in the background announced the approaching fire fighters. Moments later the place was crowded with firemen and emergency vehicles.

Tracy sat in the Caddy, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee in her still shivering hands. "Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry about your painting," she said with compassion.

"It was a fake, Tracy. I had the original all the time."

"Really? May I see it?"

Nick gave her a smile and started the engine.

* * *

Tracy was waiting expectantly in the loft while Nick fetched the painting from his storage room.

"It's fascinating. What are you going to do with it now? It's officially burned."

"I know of a place where it is quite safe," Nick stated.

* * *

"Nicholas, what a rare surprise," Lacroix greeted his son after finding him in his parlour.

"I thought the wall above the mantel might be a fitting place for this," Nick said, uncovering the canvas.

Lacroix's eyes lit up briefly. "Indeed, I was tired of the Degas anyway," the elder replied and moved to exchange the paintings. A smile of satisfaction played around his lips as he regarded the wall. "You know, you are welcome to move in with your painting, Nicholas."

Nick sighed. "It would go well about a month and then we would start quarrelling again. I'm tired, Lacroix."

The elder scowled. "But if you don't mind," Nick added. "I'd like to come by on occasion for a game of chess or just to talk…"

Lacroix smiled. "That's more than I had hoped for, Nicholas."

FIN


End file.
